Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match
by ThisCouldTheoreticallyBeSparta
Summary: Erzsébet is fed up with Gilbert coming onto her. So she decides to get rid of him in a way that will make her doubly happy: setting him up with Roderich! But Gilbert has completely different plans… Rewritten out of dissatisfaction.
1. Chapter 1

MATCHMAKER, MATCHMAKER, MAKE ME A MATCH

Author: Pixie-Rings

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia

Pairing: One-sided Prussia/Hungary, Prussia/Austria, France/Canada, America/England, Spain/Romano, Germany/Italy

Genre: humour, romance, high school AU

Rating: PG-15

Disclaimer: APH belongs to Himaruya, and the countries factually belong to themselves. Or their bosses and the people that live there, rather.

Warning: silliness

Summary: Erzsébet is fed up with Gilbert coming onto her. So she decides to get rid of him in a way that will make her doubly happy: setting him up with Roderich! But Gilbert has completely different plans…

A/n: Yeah, yeah, everyone has to do a high school AU for Hetalia, and I'm no different.

Chapter 1

Erzsébet Héderváry was, as ever during algebra, bored out of her mind. She was staring at the whiteboard, her eyes unfocused and her mouth half-open. She played with her biro on reflex, flicking it through her fingers absently. She should really be trying her hardest to take something in, as algebra certainly wasn't her forte, but her heart wasn't in it today. She growled softly when something that felt like a rubber collided with her head. She half-turned, keeping one eye on the teacher so she wouldn't be caught, to see who had dared to do that to her. Evidently, they had an earnest wish to have their head go on a blind date with her frying pan.

"Hey, Lizzie!"

She rolled her eyes. Of course, who else could it be? Gilbert Beilschmidt winked lewdly and blew a kiss at her. Erzsébet growled again and longed to throw her school diary at him, but he'd probably keep it and hold it for ransom, or something.

"Lizzie, come on, go out with me!" he urged, making annoying kissy noises and drawing heart shapes in the air with his fingertips. One of his friends, Francis, sniggered next to him. Erzsébet squeezed her pencil case and gritted her teeth, turning stiffly around to face the front of the class again. Luckily, the teacher hadn't spotted anything yet.

She really needed to get rid of Gilbert somehow. He was really, _really_ on her nerves by now. If he wasn't propositioning her in class, he was making lewd comments in the canteen and embarrassing her in front of everybody. And Erzsébet wasn't easily embarrassed anymore, not since the teacher had confiscated her yaoi comic in middle school, telling the whole class and calling her father in about it. She was still known as 'that pervy girl who likes gay porn', but she'd long since stopped caring about that.

Sighing, she began doodling on a spare piece of paper torn from her notebook. First, she doodled Gilbert being struck by lightning, then being hit by a train. Then she doodled two generic males kissing, because that was usually what she did. Deciding it wasn't finished, she added in a pair of glasses and her ex-boyfriend Roderich's hairstyle on one. Wondering vaguely who she could do him with, she found her hand drawn to her red pen and drew the other boy's eyes in that colour. Then she finished with a flourish of Gilbert's hairstyle.

She stared at the picture, horrified and strangely inspired at the same time and asking herself what the hell was that all about, when it struck her. It was the perfect way to get Gilbert out of her hair! And the perfect way of making Roderich happy again. She glanced over to her ex, who was still basically her best friend, and stifled a giggle as the boy diligently copied down the formula on the whiteboard. She and Roderich had left each other on perfectly amicable terms, and she knew he swung both ways (she had to admit that was one of the reasons she was attracted to him in the first place). She looked back down to her doodle and added some hearts, and wrote underneath: Operation…

She paused for a moment, frowning. She had no idea what to call her plan that wasn't painfully obvious. Gilbert/Roderich and GilbertxRoderich were out of the question. She shrugged and scribbled down a portmanteau. _Operation Prusstria_ sounded good enough.

And the bell rang. She quickly balled the paper up and threw it in the bin on the way out. No use in keeping it, she could always draw properly later (or even better, find it on the internet, although her RAM was getting a little crowded nowadays, with all the pictures…). She left the classroom for mid-morning break and headed downstairs to her friend Feliks's class. Feliks would aid in her plan, no doubt about it!

Gilbert stood up and strode to the bin by the door with intent, before everyone else finished their snacks, vending machine coffee and fruit juices and threw the wrappers in. Francis sidled up behind him, an eyebrow raised.

"Shall we go and find Antonio?" he asked.

"Wait a sec…" Gilbert said, fishing out the balled up piece of paper. "Erzsébet was pouring over this all lesson!" he declared triumphantly. Francis did not seem convinced.

"And this is important why?" he asked, dragging Gilbert into the corridor and down the hall towards Antonio's classroom. They only had about fifteen minutes to chat before lessons started again, and none of them wanted to waste it.

"Because, my myopic friend," Gilbert said, speaking as if Francis was a particularly dull six-year-old and his grades weren't better than Gilbert's own, "she _obviously_ wrote her undying dedication and affection towards me all over it."

Francis glanced heavenwards melodramatically, before hooking them on Angelique, the adorable second-year from the Seychelles, and blowing an enthusiastic kiss her way. She gave him an umbrella sign and continued talking to her Taiwanese friend Wang Mei.

"_Certainment, mon ami_," Francis said with a sigh. "Obviously." He and Antonio were used to such megalomania and complete ignorance of Erzsébet's true feelings from their friend.

"Of course!" And Gilbert launched into a long-winded monologue of how Erzsébet really dug him, was all over him and certainly wanted to get into his pants. Very loudly, but that wasn't unusual. Even the teachers had given up trying to quieten Gilbert down, whatever he was saying. Francis nodded and hummed at irregular intervals and peered absently in the third-year classroom next to Antonio's. He stopped and leaned in.

A very, very, _very_ cute blond boy he'd never seen before was sitting on his own reading a book. Francis smirked, running a hand through his hair, but before he could enter the classroom and chat him up, Gilbert had grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him up to Antonio.

The Iberian boy had his arms around his boyfriend's shoulders from behind, nuzzling his hair affectionately. The boyfriend in question, Lovino Vargas, who would have socked you if you'd defined him 'boyfriend' to his face, looked at if he wanted to peel Antonio's face off with a potato masher and feed it to a flock of man-eating flamingos. Antonio, as usual, was oblivious. Lovino's brother Feliciano was giggling.

"Hey, Antonio!" Gilbert practically yelled. "Quit molesting your tight-assed boyfriend and listen!"

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

Lovino tore himself from Antonio's arms, but before he could actually maul the German boy, Feliciano had dragged him in the direction of their third-year classroom. The one they shared with the new blond boy, Francis realised.

"_Ciao ciao, a dopo_!" he trilled cheerfully, as Lovino struggled tooth and claw to get at Gilbert's throat. Antonio waved merrily and turned to Gilbert and Francis.

"_Sí_?" he asked, cocking his head. Gilbert waved the still balled-up paper in front of his friend's face.

"Here is the proof, my friend!" he announced. "The proof Erzsébet is head over heels for me!"

Antonio looked at Francis, confused. "I thought Erzsébet hated him."

Francis sighed long-sufferingly. "Let him live with his delusions."

"The awesome me is _not_ delusional! Here's the evidence!" With many superfluous melodramatic gestures, Gilbert opened the paper and presented it to them without even glancing at it, one hand on his hip. At least he was confident. Francis took it, his eyebrows raised and Antonio studied it over his arm. They were silent. Gilbert opened an eye a crack.

"Well?" he demanded. Francis covered his grin with a hand. Antonio was trying to stifle his sniggering and failing miserably.

"Well, there _are_ some pictures of you…" he admitted, the amusement in his voice obvious as he elbowed Antonio, who continued to titter like a maniac. Gilbert snorted smugly.

"Sure there are!"

"One is of you being struck by lightning."

"She knows I'll survive it, because I'm that awesome! She's showing my greatness!"

"Another is of you being hit by a train."

"Nah, I'm totally saving an invisible distressed Erzsébet from the path of the metal monster!"

"And one is of you kissing Roderich."

"Well, of c-" He stopped mid-sentence, opened his eyes and snatched the paper back. He glared at the picture, which was rather detailed, complete with little hearts. "What the fuck?"

Francis and Antonio finally burst out laughing, doubled up and hanging on to one another.

"_¡Ay de mí!_" Antonio exclaimed, ready to slip onto the floor. Gilbert was trying to set fire to the drawing with his eyes.

"That girl's _so_ gonna pay for this!" he snarled. Francis and Antonio stopped laughing at the same time. They'd never heard Gilbert so furious.

"Come on, _amigo_, she probably just knew you were going to look at it once she threw it away…" said Antonio soothingly. Gilbert gave him a sceptical look.

"Then why does it say 'Operation Prusstria' underneath it?"

Endnotes:

Let's translation time!

_Certainment, mon ami_ = certainly, my friend

_Ciao ciao, a dopo_ = bye bye, see you later

_¡Ay de mí!_ = oh, poor me!

I judge that _sí_ and _amigo_ don't need a translation…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Luckily for Erzsébet, the first possibility to put her plan into action came the very next day. Although, she had to admit, it wasn't so much a plan as a 'throw them together and see what happens' sort of idea. She knew Roderich had a little thing going for Gilbert, she could tell, but whether Gilbert would cooperate was another thing…

"So, Gilbert and Erzsébet, you'll be on cleaning duty…"

Roderich scribbled the names down on the register for who would have to clean the classroom that afternoon, but before he could pass on to the next order of duty, Erzsébet shot her hand up.

"I'm sorry, Roderich, but I have to help my dad in the shop today, I can't stay for cleaning duty," she said, injecting just enough contrition for it to seem authentic. In all honesty, she didn't, but there was nothing like using her dad's greengrocer's as an excuse. Roderich blinked and frowned.

"Oh, I see… Well, I'll take it on then."

"Thank you so much, Roderich!" she gushed, clapping her hands together.

Gilbert glared at Erzsébet's back. Now he would be forced to skip cleaning duty. Not that he would have done it anyway had he been paired with anyone but Erzsébet except maybe Francis, but… this was confirming his suspicions. Why on Earth would Erzsébet want to pair him up with Roderich anyhow? He was boring, and studious and dull and, as Lovino would say, _una rottura di palle_…

He looked over to Francis, who was resolutely looking the other way, to give him a look that would clearly say 'I told you so', and… was he eyeing Roderich's ass? No way! How dare he do that?

Before Gilbert could a) catapult himself across the room and strangle Francis and b) wonder why he felt so protective of Roderich's ass, the bell rang, signalling the end of class assembly and the beginning of mid-morning break. Gilbert stood, digging his hands in his pockets and slouching over to Francis – who was still eyeing Roderich.

"You know, I never noticed before now how good-looking Roderich is," Francis mused, stroking his chin. Gilbert snarled something horrible under his breath. Francis sighed and wound an arm around his friend's shoulders.

"Come on, I have to talk to Feliciano and Lovino about something," he said, dragging Gilbert with him. Gilbert growled and tried to get loose, before giving in.

They'd almost arrived at Antonio's classroom when Arthur strode by, looking even more furious than usual.

"Oh, _Rosbif_, ready to consider my proposition?" Francis asked lewdly, winking. Arthur glared at him.

"Fuck off, frog, I –"

"Hey, pal, back off there!"

Both Francis and Gilbert looked to the accented voice that interrupted the usual Francis and Arthur Show. The owner of the voice, a tall, blond, all-American-looking boy whom neither had seen before, glowered at Francis and placed an arm around Arthur's waist.

"This is my property," he announced. Arthur looked as if he was about to have an apoplectic fit. He whirled around and punched the younger boy in the face.

"Fuck OFF, Alfred Jones!" he bellowed, storming off towards the vending machine.

"Aw, come on, Artie, you love it really!" Alfred crowed, easily following the slightly shorter boy without a moment's hesitation, as if there wasn't a large fist-print on his cheek.

"Well, _that_ was interesting," Gilbert admitted, grinning. Francis whistled in agreement, trying to place the familiarity of Alfred. Then it clicked. He looked remarkably similar to the blond boy he had to ask the Vargas twins about.

"Hey, what's with the Yank and the Brit with a pole up his ass?" asked Gilbert when they finally reached Antonio and Lovino. Feliciano, oddly enough, was nowhere in sight. Antonio chuckled.

"Alfred burst in during class assembly and confessed his undying affection for Arthur," he said. Lovino rolled his eyes and snorted.

"What an idiot," he said. "Everyone knows Kirkland's frigid as a freezer."

"You do know only women can be frigid?" Francis commented matter-of-factly. Lovino gave him a scathing look.

"Since when is Kirkland _normal_?" he asked. Francis had to admit that was a true observation.

"Ah, Lovino, where is your brother?" he asked. Lovino eyed him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"I only want to ask him something," Francis assured him. Lovino scowled, then sighed.

"He's with the Kraut's brother," he jerked his thumb at Gilbert, "apparently getting help with his German homework that he didn't finish."

Gilbert sniggered. "Yeah, nothing like some hands-on help from a mother tongue…"

Lovino lunged at Gilbert, but Antonio held him back.

"_Mi amor, calmate_," he said soothingly, fiddling with the curl that stuck out impertinently from Lovino's head. Lovino turned tomato red and wriggled away from Antonio.

"I told you not to touch that, motherfucker!" he snarled. He folded his arms and sulked.

"Oh, _mi corazon_, don't be like that…" Antonio moaned. Lovino turned on his heel and stomped off towards his classroom, Antonio following him like a whiny shadow. Francis sighed to himself as he realised he still hadn't asked who the blond boy was.

Feeling frustrated as the bell rung, even forgetting to wink at Angelique as he passed her, Francis threw himself in his seat and completely ignored Mrs Karpusi, the literature teacher.

Lunch was always a noisy affair at United Nations Academy for Higher Learning. Two-hundred-and-fifty so students stuck together with food did nothing for quiet and tranquillity. There wasn't your usual division of nerdy and cool, unlike other schools, and kids either sat in their nationality cliques or with their friends, who often spanned the weirdest and most unusual interests. Headmaster Romulus Vargas promoted friendships between students, and romances as well and bullying was not tolerated, on pain of instant expulsion.

Erzsébet usually sat with Feliks, Roderich and Tolys, Feliks's boyfriend. Today was no exception, except that Roderich, as student council fourth-year representative, had duties with the other members.

Feliks abandoned his tray slightly to the side and leaned forward, grinning from ear to ear. Tolys stopped eating too. Whenever Feliks stopped eating (his talk of diets and his figure be damned, he ate like a pig) that was a sure sign something sneaky was afoot.

"So, how's plan A of Operation Prusstria coming along?" he asked. Erzsébet grinned back.

"I've got them stuck together on cleaning duty this afternoon," she said proudly. "If Gilbert doesn't skive like he usually does," she added darkly, taking a bite of her sandwich. Feliks raised a finger.

"What you could do," he said, "is, like, beg for Gilbert to do it for you. Be all coy and shy and 'I totally wanna get in your pants'. It's, like, _so_ gonna work with Gilbert, considering he's the quintessential teenage boy."

Erzsébet stroked her chin thoughtfully. "That would work," she conceded. Tolys moaned gently.

"I… I really don't think it's a good idea," he said. "You know Gilbert hates Roderich."

Feliks shushed him with a wave of a perfectly manicured hand. "Oh, nonsense, Liet," he said. "This'll be fabulous!"

OoOoO

Four tables away, Gilbert was ripping his empty juice carton to pieces.

"She set me up! Can you _believe_ it?"

Francis rolled his eyes. "Actually I can," he said. "You kept on annoying her when she clearly was not interested, and now you are reaping what you've sown."

He took a sip of his Coke Zero and nodded, as if he was arresting his case. His mood was still sour from earlier.

"Hey, can we talk about something else?" Lovino demanded. "Do you know how fucking boring it is listening to the Woes of Poor Ickle Gilbert all fucking day?"

Gilbert glowered at the Italian boy, who glowered straight back, until Antonio intervened.

"Why don't we _actually_ talk about something else?" he suggested. He really didn't want his boyfriend to murder one of his best friends over lunch, especially when Deputy Headmaster Ewald Beilschmidt was watching them like a hawk.

"Like what?" Lovino demanded, his hands itching to get around Gilbert's neck.

"Your brother and Gilbert's, for instance!" Antonio chirped. Indeed, across the other side of the hall the two in question sat with Kiku Honda, Herakles Karpusi and Arthur. Lovino nearly burst a vein.

"ARGH! Don't talk to me about that potato lover and my idiot brother! I DON'T WANNA FUCKING KNOW!" he howled. Francis sighed.

"You'll never learn, will you, Antonio?" he remarked. Antonio looked adorably confused.

"Although, I am curious about how it came to be," he mused, watching them. Feliciano was comparing his spaghetti to Kiku's ramen. Herakles was nodding off against Kiku's shoulder, and Arthur was doing something he was rarely seen doing: laughing.

Francis snapped out of his reverie and scanned the room, even turning around to get a better look at the canteen behind him. But he couldn't see the cute blond boy that looked eerily similar to Alfred, and he sighed sorrowfully and went back to his omelette.

Endnotes:

Let's translation time!

Una rottura di palle = untranslatable literally (it means 'a breaking of balls'), it's a way of saying someone or something is boring to the extreme power. It's a harsher version of 'what a drag', let's say.

Mi amor, calmate = my love, calm down

Mi corazon = my darling (literally 'my heart')


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Two OCs mentioned here: Ivory Coast (Didier) and Argentina (Anita)

Gilbert had been stomping back from PE when he was cornered by Erzsébet.

"Gilbert, can I ask you a favour?" she asked. Gilbert blinked. Her voice was sultry and shy, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that made him just that much hotter. He leaned against the wall with a cocky grin and nodded.

"Anything for you, _Liebling_," he said. Erzsébet cringed inwardly at the endearment and tried to ignore it. This was for a greater cause, after all.

"Listen, could you possibly actually stay this afternoon and help Roderich clean the classroom? I feel so bad not being able to stay and help myself, see, so…"

She turned the charm on to eleven and gave him a kick-ass set of puppy eyes. Gilbert flushed slightly and cleared his throat.

"Well, er, if you want me to…" he muttered. Damn, he _knew_ she was playing him, but he couldn't resist those _eyes_… She cheered, clapping her hands and looking very cute.

"Yay! Thank you so much, Gilbert!"

And off she skipped. Gilbert scowled. He'd been hoping to at least get a kiss on the goddamn cheek for his trouble. He'd like nothing more than to skive off this afternoon like he usually did, but he was a man of his word and… Oh, who was he fooling? He'd goddamn skive if he fucking felt like it.

And he was just walking towards the exit, laughing with Francis and Antonio, when he was collared and stopped.

"Uh, yeah?" he asked.

Roderich's scowl was eloquent on so many levels. "Considering half the mess in the classroom was made entirely by you, you're going to help clean it up!" he ordered.

Gilbert slumped and let his arms dangle. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," was the short answer.

Gilbert howled his distaste at the idea and tried to struggle away, but Roderich was stronger than he looked. Eventually Gilbert found himself with a broom in hand, sweeping the floor with as much misunderstood emo belligerence as he could muster as Roderich cleaned the desks. The place stank of that horrible pink cleaning alcohol, and it made Gilbert gag.

"Are we nearly done yet?" he demanded. Roderich stopped scrubbing Francis's desk (which was covered in pencil conversation with his neighbour Didier), gazed to the heavens for strength and sighed.

"We've haven't even been here ten minutes already," he said, moving onto the desk behind Francis's. "Oh, Anita forgot her mobile phone…"

Gilbert quickly abandoned his chore, letting the broom clack on the floor more than happily, and snatching the phone from Roderich's unprepared hands.

"Ooh! Let's read her messages!" he said eagerly, unlocking it and trying to find the menu (it was very different from his own). Roderich snatched it back before he could.

"Don't be stupid," he snapped. "I'll keep it safe and give it back to her tomorrow!"

Gilbert pouted, grabbing for the phone. "Come on, give it back!"

Roderich leaned back with the phone out of reach in his outstretched hand, placing a hand on Gilbert's chest to push him back. Both froze when they realised what they were doing, and more importantly how close they were. Gilbert leapt back, scowling. Fighting down a blush, Roderich frowned at Gilbert.

"You can't do that, that's a violation of Anita's privacy."

"Aw, man, you're no fun! You're an old stoogy!"

Roderich looked highly offended at the definition, scrabbling for a comeback. "'Stoogy' isn't even a word," he said finally. Gilbert placed his hands on his hips, threw his head back and laughed like the best villain in any good B movie.

"Yes, it is, because _I_ just invented it!"

Roderich pressed his glasses up and sighed again. He sighed a lot when he was around Gilbert, for multiple reasons. "It takes years for a word to become current in the English language once it's been invented, you know."

"'Muggle' is in the dictionary!" Gilbert protested, folding his arms. Roderich mirrored him.

"Yes, but its impact on popular culture is impressive, and it's been around since 1997," he countered.

"Well…" Gilbert groped for a witty retort. Unfortunately, he was usually the one people made witty retorts to, and therefore he didn't have an unending supply of sarcastic sequiturs like England or Francis. "Your nose is off-centre!" he announced triumphantly.

Roderich's eyebrows flew upwards. "What on Earth has that got to do with anything at all?"

Gilbert raised a finger and waggled it in Roderich's face. "It has everything to do with everything! If your nose is off-centre, of course you won't ever reach the level of coolness of the awesome me!"

Roderich threw his hands up in the air and turned on his heel, snatching up the cloth he had been using to scrub the desks. "I give up! You're completely insane."

"Aw, shucks, Roderich, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!" Gilbert teased, sticking his tongue out at Roderich's back.

"Yes, well, that's more than you've ever said to me," he muttered.

"Wassat?"

Roderich cleared his throat and waved his free hand. "Nothing, nothing. You can go if you want."

"Really!" Gilbert asked eagerly. Roderich nodded. Gilbert whooped and abandoned his broom for the second time in about five minutes, and grabbed his bag as he dashed from the room.

"_Du idiot_," he muttered. Once he was sure Gilbert wouldn't be coming back, he glanced up and down the corridor and headed to the bathroom. Was his nose really off-centre?

He peered in the mirror, inspecting it from all angles, with and without his glasses. It looked perfectly normal to him, if a bit more prominent than usual. He looked at his face dead on, and didn't see anything wrong with it.

"_Trottel_…" he mumbled, flushing slightly. For as long as he could remember, Gilbert, Francis and Antonio had picked on him. They were all the same age, and had all gone to the same nursery school, primary school and middle school. They'd picked on him for playing more with Erzsébet, who was a girl (when they'd finally realised it). They'd picked on him for his beauty spot (his mother had called it that so many times it had stuck by now), his glasses and his curl (he'd noticed Antonio's hypocrisy in this department), even his hairstyle, that he'd often gone home and cried as a small child. Of course, Gilbert had always been worst. He'd pushed Roderich into puddles and mud patches more than once, one time even into a patch of nettles, and no matter how hard his mother had told him to ignore the German boy, he couldn't help but feel so hurt by it.

Once the final year of secondary school had rolled around, Francis had given up his bullying in favour of chasing skirts and trousers, and Antonio had stopped because the idiot had probably forgotten why he'd been doing it in the first place. Gilbert, however, seemed to reserve Thursdays for 'let's pick on Roderich' time. Gilbert and the rest of the Bad Company Trio may have found it funny to fill his locker full of frogs, but he and Erzsébet certainly hadn't, even if she did like frogs.

And then Erzsébet and Roderich had started dating. They'd certainly liked each other very much, but the spark hadn't been there. Unfortunately, the person who'd made him feel that spark had been, to his eternal chagrin, Gilbert.

He hated the fact Gilbert had some horrible influence on the pubescent male side of him, no matter how hard the inflexible logical side tried to squash it flat, pour kerosene on it and use a dozen or so matchbooks to light it. Gilbert's cocky grin and arrogant stance and haughty self-aggrandising monologues were something so completely antithetical to himself that he couldn't help being attracted.

He hoped Erzsébet wasn't trying one of her schemes, as usual.

Far across the other side of town, Erzsébet lounged at her desk, gazing at the screen that showed her the inside of the 4a classroom. She'd installed the camera with Feliks and Kiku's help during lunch, when classes were out of bounds, and connected it to her phone, which connected it to her modem, via Wi-Fi. She'd been thoroughly bored with how things were going up until now. Gilbert had been bitching and slumping like a two-year-old (nothing new there), and Roderich had been nothing but his usual steadfast self.

Things, however, looked up for her when Roderich found Anita's cell phone. She sat up straighter when Gilbert lunged for it, and the moment of total stillness. She liked to think a spark had gone between them, a jolt of sexual tension. Of course, she didn't know how far she'd actually come to the truth.

All the same, she took a screen shot of the recording for posterity and quickly printed it out. Feliks would want to see it anyway.

She quickly realised there was nothing more to see and sighed in disappointment. Evidently, they were not about to make out immediately.

"Erzsébet, the phone!" her dad called, and she left the computer to go get it.

Endnotes:

Let's translation time!

_Liebling_ = darling

_Du idiot_ = you idiot

_Trottel_ = jerk (or so I heard)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Two more OCs: Colombia (Linda) and Brazil (Juliana).

Anita: Argentina

Raymond: Cameroon

Bruce: Australia

Juan: Mexico

Anyway, fic!

OoOoO

Gilbert arrived at school in a mood. He stomped his way into the classroom and threw his bag on his desk, throwing himself in his chair angrily. Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," he teased with a chuckle. Gilbert folded his arms and tried to bore a hole in the wall with his red eyes, gritting his teeth in irritation.

"Shut up," he snapped, resolutely not looking at his friend.

"Come on, tell me…"

"I had a bad night's sleep," Gilbert groused.

That wasn't exactly true. Most of his night had been spent sleeping perfectly well. And then he'd started dreaming.

At first, it had been his usual wet dreams about Erzsébet, with plenty of corny porn lines and coyness on her part. Then, inexplicably, somewhere along the line… Erzsébet had morphed into Roderich. If Gilbert had been anything of a lucid dreamer, he probably would have woken himself up in horror and spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, afraid to fall asleep.

But, unfortunately, when Gilbert slept, he didn't realise he was dreaming. And besides, he was really into this dream… Roderich looked really hot in those boots, and that riding crop was pretty kinky, and…

Then his grandfather had woken him up by knocking on the door. He'd jerked awake, mind still full of Roderich (with dream Roderich's mouth full of something else…) and his erection creating an impressive tent in the sheets. He'd blushed in a way Antonio would have defined 'tomato-like' and tried to forget about the whole incident.

Of course, it hadn't worked. He was still mulling the dream over repeatedly on his way to school, as he and his brother had gone their separate ways, and now as Francis tried to get him to divulge what his bad mood was all about. God, this sucked. It must have been Erzsébet's influence, no other explanation.

"I had a bad dream," he clarified, otherwise Francis wouldn't stop annoying him. Francis stroked his chin and smirked.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with _Roderich_, would it?" he asked, far too shrewdly. Gilbert didn't know whether to blush or explode. Saved by the bell indeed.

The lessons of the first half of the morning passed uneventfully. Gilbert caught himself staring at the line of Roderich's throat and berated himself mentally, immediately averting his eyes forward to stared unseeingly at Erzsébet's mass of brown waves.

By mid-morning and about fifty instances of being caught with his eyes reverting to Roderich, Gilbert wanted nothing more than to hear the mid-morning break bell and dash to the vending machine to buy himself something full of caffeine and top it up with cleaning alcohol. But it looked as if he wasn't going to get his wish.

Before anyone could move, Roderich had moved to the teacher's desk and cleared his throat.

"Sit down, everyone, I have something to tell you." He was holding papers. That never boded concise.

"I know fully well some of you have awful grades in certain subjects, and the school has decided to do something about it. Thanks to a student-tutor plan, in which an older student who is strong in a certain subject helps a younger student who is weak in that subject. However, considering fifth-years have their final exams for university admission, they cannot help fourth-years, who will have to help themselves.

"That means you'll be assigned to another student in your year who can help you. Your tutor." He held up the sheaf of papers. "Here are the names of some students who've offered themselves as tutors. We'll pair you up _arbitrarily_," he seemed to glare at some specific people as he said this, "and you will meet once a week with your tutor to go over homework. When you have a recovery exam, your tutor will help you with preparation for it."

Gilbert booed, earning some sniggers from people.

"Can we eat now?" asked Raymond. Roderich glared daggers at him and the African boy sank lower in his seat despite his size.

"Alright, eat if you want," he conceded. "I'll let you know your tutor or student during lunch break."

OoOoO

Erzsébet and Feliks were trying to be sneaky. Erzsébet thought they were doing pretty well, even without the tight black cat suits. She glanced around the corner at the corridor that held the student council meeting room, and smiled.

"Coast is clear," she hissed. Feliks grinned and they both jogged up to the door, which wasn't locked.

"Keep watch!" Erzsébet ordered, slipping inside with a sheaf of papers under her arm. Feliks leaned against the wall with feigned nonchalance and began humming to himself. Erzsébet snuck over to the main desk where Arthur usually sat and sifted through the papers neatly littering it. Bingo, the printed sheets with the names of the students and tutors.

She quickly flicked through until she found Gilbert's (because God knew he needed tutoring), and gave a quiet whoop. She didn't even need to add her own printed out copy. He was already assigned to Roderich. Curious, she looked at her own and smiled. Ok, Ludwig teaching her algebra was alright. Hurrying back to the door, she shrank back before she could open it.

"What on Earth are you doing out here, Feliks?" That was Arthur. Luckily for them, Feliks was a smooth talker.

"Uh, like, waiting for you, actually!" he said. Erzsébet giggled as she imagined Feliks batting his eyelashes and probably slightly traumatising Arthur.

"Alfred said he's, like, totally going to paint a fabulous declaration of love on the footie pitch if you don't, like, hurry up and stop him," he said. Erzsébet felt a huge well of pride in her heart at her friend's easy lie. She heard Arthur groan loudly.

"Goddamn it, that _moronic_ Yank!" he snarled, turning and heading out towards the football pitch. Feliks sniggered and opened the door once the Brit had rounded the corner.

"Hurry up, let's get out of here!" Feliks urged. The two dashed to the opposite end of the corridor and towards the photocopy room.

"That was such a good lie, Feliks!" Erzsébet said admiringly. Feliks giggled.

"It's not a lie. I totally overheard Feliciano telling Bruce all about it!"

"Oh, you genius!"

"I know!" said Feliks proudly, tossing his hair back self-importantly. "Did you swap the papers?"

Erzsébet giggled. "I didn't need to, Gilbert is already assigned to Roderich."

"Really? Fab!" Feliks exclaimed. Quickly, in the photocopy room, Erzsébet stuffed the papers into the paper shredder and they high-tailed it to the scene which would no doubt be playing outside.

OoOoO

It had to be a nightmare, Gilbert thought, staring at the bit of paper Roderich had handed him.

"Why the fuck am I with you?" he demanded. Roderich rolled his eyes.

"Because my biology grades are the highest in our year except for Arthur's, and he's already assigned to Herakles," he said shortly. Gilbert scowled.

"Can't Francis take me?"

Francis smirked. "_Mon ami_, just tell me the time and place and I'll come running," he said suavely. Gilbert kicked him under the table.

"As good as Francis's grades are, I have no doubt he wouldn't be a good enough teacher," Roderich said. He then handed a piece of paper to Antonio.

"Oh, Anita is going to teach me physics!" he said cheerfully. Lovino's eye twitched. Antonio didn't notice.

"Hey, Roderich," Lovino demanded, turning towards the Austrian boy, "does the tutor go to the student's house or the student to the tutor's?"

"Whatever is best," Roderich replied. Lovino ground his teeth.

"You're not going to Anita's," he growled. Antonio raised his head.

"Only if she thinks it best," Antonio said. Lovino looked as if he wanted to shove a fork in Antonio's eye. And, of course, Anita just had to choose that moment to sashay by.

"Hey, Antonio, I'm tutoring you, huh?" she said. Lovino glowered at her. Antonio smiled.

"So it seems," he said.

"So, you'll come to my place?" she asked. Antonio opened his mouth to reply and Lovino kicked him under the table.

"No, you'll have to come to his place," he answered her. Anita sneered.

"Since when do you have a say in this?" she enquired snidely. Lovino got to his feet and grabbed an empty dinner tray.

"Repeat that, _maledetta vipera_!" he demanded, his voice rising. "I know you've got your slitty yellow eyes on him!"

"Oh, are you that insecure that you need to keep him on a leash?" she mocked, laughing.

Francis grabbed the younger boy around the waist before Lovino could lunge at the Argentinean girl and give her a serious concussion with the tray, and she just turned on her heel and left with a laugh to join her friends Linda and Juliana.

"Yeah, laugh all you want, bitch, but I'm getting cock and you're not!" he yelled after her. With that elegant last retort, he threw himself back in his seat and folded his arms, glowering. Normally he was nothing but chivalrous with girls, but Anita really, really annoyed him. Antonio frowned.

"There was no need for that, Lovinito," he said, sounding disappointed. Lovino looked at him furiously.

"If you weren't so goddamn blind you'd know there was a reason for it! You're such an IDIOT!"

He stood up, stomped off towards the cafeteria door and barged out, the door swinging wildly behind him. Feliciano noticed him go and hurried after him.

It was a mark of how odd this school was anyway when no one made a lewd comment or laughed, probably because half of the boys chased more pants than skirts anyway. Gilbert whistled.

"Whoa, was that, like, your first ever argument?" he asked, sounding ecstatic at the mayhem. Antonio looked hurt and bewildered.

"Roderich, close your mouth," Francis advised. Roderich did as he was told and cleared his throat.

"See you Friday afternoon, Gilbert," he said. It really sounded like an anti-climax after Lovino's hissy fit.

**OMAKE**

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS SACRED ARE YOU DOING?"

Alfred looked up from his work, grinning manically. He worked fast, having roped his brother and his newfound best friend Tolys into helping him, and was already at the 'with' in 'will you go out with me Arthur?'. He placed the pot of paint and the brush down and stood up, folding his arms proudly to face Arthur, who had his hands on his hips and looked as if he was about to burst a blood vessel.

"I'm asking you for a date!" he said cheerfully, as if this was obvious.

"NO YOU'RE BLOODY WELL NOT!" Arthur bellowed. It was amazing how much breath there was in such a small, skinny body. "YOU'RE DEFACING SCHOOL PROPERTY! I'M GOING TO GET YOU EXPELLED FOR THIS, YOU FUCKWIT!"

By now Arthur seemed incapable of speaking in lower case letters. Alfred's grin didn't lose one watt of luminescence.

"Aw, come on, Arthur! You love all this attention I'm showering you with!"

Arthur's gaze, full of pure detestation, could have set fire to Teflon almost as well as his cooking. He folded his arms across his chest.

"No, I despise it. And I despise _you_ as well." And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared back into the school, no doubt to inform the Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster of Alfred's doing.

Matthew, still holding the paint tin and brush, came up to his brother's side and sighed.

"Give it up, Alfred," he said. "He's really not interested in you."

Alfred shoved his glasses up his nose furiously. "He is! I _know_ he is! And I'll get him to date me if it's the last thing I ever do!"

He stomped off in the opposite direction, ignoring the whispers and giggles coming from the crowd at the edge of the pitch. Bruce turned around to Juan.

"Fuck, I guess that means no match on Friday," he said. Juan mirrored his forlorn look.

OoOoO

Let's translation time!

_maledetta vipera = _damn viper/snake. It's like saying 'you cow' in Italian, and indicates the kind of woman that spreads nasty gossip and wants to steal your boyfriend… A lot like Anita. Btw, I have no idea how she ended up like that, but I just needed a nasty chick. Sorry, Argentineans of the world!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sorry, no Prusstria in this one! XP be patient, it's in the next.

Lars: Netherlands. He throws awesome parties.

OoOoO

Erzsébet was in a rather good mood as she stepped off the bus and skipped to Ludwig's house on Friday afternoon for her tuition, because she knew that about halfway across the town Prussia and Austria were stuck in Austria's house together. Probably because Ludwig had forced him to go, but… she could always kid herself to thinking it was because Austria's feelings were requited, even thought neither knew of the other's.

Tossing her hair and adjusting her tights that covered most of her legs from her denim shorts to her flat ankle boots, she rang the doorbell, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Deputy Headmaster Ewald opened the door with a polite nod.

"Miss Héderváry," he greeted. Erzsébet beamed and entered.

"Good afternoon, Professor Beilschmidt!" she twittered. Ewald raised an eyebrow and took her coat, hanging it up on the hat stand by the door.

"We're in a good mood this afternoon, it seems," he remarked, leading her up the stairs and down the hallway to the middle door.

"I guess I am, Professor!" she replied. Ewald knocked respectfully and Ludwig's voice answered that they could come in.

"_SORELLONA ELISABETTA_!"

Erzsébet's smile widened and she answered Feliciano's happy hug with enthusiasm. There was nothing that made one's day better than being hugged by an overenthusiastic Italian. Ludwig's sigh after his civil greeting was more than eloquent, and Ewald cleared his throat.

"I shall be going out, so… I trust in your maturity."

Ludwig looked pained at that, as if his grandfather was leaving him to baby-sit both Feliciano and Erzsébet – which he was. Feliciano extracted himself from Erzsébet's arms and plopped himself down on the chair next to Ludwig's, snuggling up to the other boy's shoulder.

"We'll be as mature as possible, Professor Beilschmidt," Erzsébet reassured him. "I'm here for repetitions, after all."

Ewald nodded in satisfaction and made to back out into the hallway again when Feliciano, a mischievous smile on his face, piped up.

"Ve, have fun with _Nonno_, _Zio _Ewald!" he said, waving. Ewald turned a rather immature shade of red and left the room quickly, making Erzsébet giggle. She then crossed over to the desk and sat opposite Ludwig and Feliciano, pulling her textbooks and notebook out of her satchel.

"So, where do we start?" she asked. Feliciano made a face and hopped up again.

"I hate maths," he said, chuckling. "I'll go make you a snack."

Ludwig frowned. "Feliciano, that's not necessary…"

"_Zitto tu_!" Feliciano ordered jokingly, leaning over, kissing him on the cheek and leaving the room, humming some sort of tune probably only he could make head or tail of. Ludwig had turned a shade darker than his grandfather and blatantly avoided Erzsébet's eyes. The Hungarian giggled.

"Aw, you make such a sweet couple," she commented, clapping her hands happily. Ludwig finally raised his eyes and sighed.

"Why does everyone seem to think that?" he asked. Erzsébet raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, because you are?" she suggested, trying not to allow too much of a 'duh?' tone into her voice. Ludwig sighed again, opening his textbook to the exercises they had been set for Monday.

"I don't even know when we became a… you know," he mumbled. "One minute we were friends, next…" Ludwig blinked as he seemed to realise what he'd been saying and cleared his throat, embarrassed. Erzsébet smiled warmly.

"That's the best way to do it. If things changed without either of you realising, then it's a sign that you're perfectly comfortable with each other."

She opened her book as if she hadn't dished out a piece of decent advice and rolled her sleeves up, preparing her biro.

"Let's do this shit!"

OoOoO

Anita glowered across the table at the distant boy seated opposite her. Her mother kept spying on them from the kitchen, finding excuses to come into the living room and snoop, evidently hoping to get this handsome Spanish boy as her son-in-law. However, Antonio was completely elsewhere, staring out of the window and sighing intermittently.

Lovino hadn't returned any of his calls, despite the messages he'd left on his voicemail and the text messages he'd flooded his boyfriend with… boyfriend? Could he still call him that? Were they irrevocably broken? It had taken so long for both of them to stop dancing around each other, and Antonio cared about him so much it almost hurt… Francis had had to sit him down and very slowly explain what exactly he was supposed to have done. Of course, even _he_ realised he shouldn't really be at Anita's house at the moment. He'd rather be at the Vargas residence, saying sorry to Lovino, but he needed to study his physics.

He sighed again, and Anita gritted her teeth.

"So," she began, clearing her throat. "Are you going to Lars's party tomorrow night?"

Antonio didn't make any acknowledgement of her, and that made Anita's left eye twitch in irritation.

"Antonio?" she barked, and the Spaniard jumped and offered her a half-assed version of his usual vapid smile.

"_Sí_?" he enquired. Anita hitched a smile onto her scowling face.

"I asked you whether you were going to Lars party tomorrow night."

Lars and his sister Charlotte were the resident party animals of the school, the supplier most of the weed that circulated among the students (and, rumour had it, Headmaster Vargas), and yes, he and Lovino had been invited. He, of course, had no intention of going without Lovino. They'd even gotten a joint invitation, like most of the couples in school had and… it hurt. And to think it had only been since Wednesday…

"Um," he swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze. "No."

Anita pouted thoughtfully, pressing a finger to her cheek. "That's a shame…" she said, sounding sad. Suddenly she perked up. "Hey, I know! How about you and I go together!" Anita could almost feel her mother silently cheering behind the door.

Antonio's head jerked up and his jaw fell. Blinking stupidly, he shook his head vehemently. Francis had been right!

"No, I… I can't do that! I'm with someone. You know… Lovino…"

Anita waved her hand. "Oh silly, you saw that scene he made in the canteen yesterday," she sighed over-dramatically and leaned over the table, making sure to rest her breasts on her folded arms and underline her decent cleavage. "You're better off without him," she purred. Antonio gulped and backed away, leaning as far back from Anita's insistence as he could without scraping the chair back and bolting.

"I, er, I… Lovino and I…"

"…Are over," Anita said firmly, leaning even closer to kiss him, her eyes half-closed. Antonio glanced to the door with longing eyes, and was about to duck and dash when Anita grabbed the front of his shirt and locked her lips to his.

Antonio didn't respond. It didn't disgust him, but… Well, yes, it did. He only wanted to kiss his Lovinito, not Anita! With a hand on her shoulder, he pushed her away, and she scowled.

"What's wrong?" she demanded. She blinked in surprise when she saw Antonio was gathering his stuff as fast as he could and throwing his jacket over his shoulder.

"I have to go," he said curtly, crossing the room with long strides and heading to the front door. Anita quickly followed.

"Aw, come on, Antonio! What's this about? Lovino? He's not good enough for you!"

Antonio stopped at the open front door and turned halfway, biting his lip.

"He's always angry, he's jealous and he never expresses his feelings. He's loud and swears every other word, it took ages for him to get over his religion and even longer to admit he liked me. He has so many issues about being left alone and he's violent too, but…" he lifted his gaze and locked it to Anita's, "but I love him with every part of me."

And with that, he left, closing the door tightly behind him. Anita's scowl could have stripped paint. She dashed to the living room window and tore it open, sticking her head out and glaring at Antonio, pulling his jacket on down in the street.

"_¡HIJO DE PUTA!_ YOU WON'T HAVE ANOTHER CHANCE AT ME, _BASTARDO_!" she yelled. Antonio picked his backpack up, ignored her and heading to the bus stop further down the road, knowing which number bus he had to get to get to the neighbourhood where the Vargas household was.

OoOoO

Let's translation time!

Sorellona ELISABETTA = big sister Erzsébet

Nonno = grandpa

Zio = uncle

Zitto tu = shut up, you

Hijo de puta = son of a bitch

Bastardo = obvious, isn't it?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Too much GerIta? I don't care. I don't write enough for them. They needed a nice, big bit of them before I get back to the main Prusstria.

And the maths teacher is Professor Nefertari Mohammed Hassan. Yes, it's Gupta's mum.

.

"…So that makes the answer…?" Ludwig prompted encouragingly. Erzsébet scrunched her face up. It was the last one of the exercises they had been set, and by far the hardest. She'd managed to resolve the rest quite well, only tripping over her own calculations and having to redo the entire equation twice (the others she'd caught in time). This was the only one she hadn't made one mistake on, and she didn't want to go out on a low.

"F-fifty-eight?" she asked timidly. Ludwig's proud smile was enough to let her know she'd gotten it right and she wrote the solution down with a flourish, whooping and punching the air.

"So, do you think you'll do better on the next test?" Ludwig asked, closing his notebook and textbook and folding his arms. Erzsébet nodded enthusiastically.

"You bet I do! Usually I don't understand a word of what Professor Hassan says, but you explained it so patiently!" She beamed at him. "Thanks so much, Ludwig."

Ludwig shrugged. "I'm used to being patient. I've lived with Gilbert all my life, and, well… Feliciano needs someone patient."

He flushed after he said that, and Erzsébet giggled. The bedroom door opened suddenly and Feliciano strode in, holding what looked like a wooden spoon and wearing a flowery apron that looked distinctly out of place in the Beilschmidt household.

"Snack is ready!" he announced. He had a smear of flour across one cheek. "I made the pasta myself."

Ludwig blanched, stood, and marched downstairs to the kitchen. Erzsébet and Feliciano followed at a more leisurely pace.

"Nice apron," she remarked. Feliciano beamed, twirling around, making Erzsébet laugh.

"Isn't it? I got it for Ludwig when he said he needed a new one… Apparently Gilbert burned his old one…" He pouted suddenly. "He never wears it, though."

Erzsébet smiled. "Give him time. I'm sure he really loves it."

They reached the kitchen to find Ludwig scrubbing at the work surface, completely ignoring the three bowls of steaming gnocchi al ragù on the island, being longingly looked at by an Alsatian. Feliciano sighed and tugged Ludwig away from his task, plonking him down in a seat and putting a fork in his hand.

"Eat," he ordered. Ludwig glanced wistfully at the half-clean counter, but Feliciano's gaze offered no room for token protest. Erzsébet, stifling her delighted giggles at the domesticity of the two boys, sitting down daintily and picking up her own fork. She took a bite of her gnocchi and gave an overjoyed hum.

"Feliciano, this is delicious!" she said. Feliciano's smile could have melted the Poles quicker than the hole in the ozone layer and he sat next to Ludwig, ready to tuck into his own plateful.

"It's as excellent as it always is," Ludwig said, and the pure sincerity in his voice made Erzsébet's inner (and more often than not outer) fangirl want to emit a loud cross between a squeal and a yell. She whipped her cell phone out, having gotten plenty of practice at the art at school, preparing the camera in anticipation.

"Aw, Ludwig! _Grazie_! _Ti voglio tanto bene_!" He leaned over and planted a kiss on Ludwig's cheek. Erzsébet's phone clicked as she took the photo and saved it, and Ludwig turned brilliant red, looking at her with an appalled expression. Feliciano just giggled and clapped his hands.

"Send it to me, Erzsébet! Let me turn my Bluetooth on!" He pulled his own phone (with a tiny plate of pasta charm dangling from it) out and fiddled with it for a few seconds.

"Feliciano, no…"

"You're PazzoPerPasta, right?" Erzsébet asked in a mumble, ignoring Ludwig and already falling into a teenage Bluetooth stupor. Feliciano nodded.

"And you're PanDemonia? Let me make the connection…"

After a few more seconds of silent fiddling, Feliciano let out a loud squeal and waved his arm happily.

"Look! Look! You're so cute in this, Ludwig!" he exclaimed, going off into transports of delight. Ludwig was puce and seemed to be unable to form a coherent sentence.

"I'm setting this as my wallpaper!" Feliciano continued fiddling a little bit longer before Ludwig finally came to his senses again.

"F-Feliciano..."

"_Carino da morire!_"

Erzsébet giggled at their exchange. They were so sweet together! If only Gilbert could be more like his brother, and Roderich more like Feliciano…

OoOoO

Gilbert was grinding his teeth in frustration. He'd give anything to be very, very far away from here, preferably at Antonio's apartment or Francis's place, playing on the xBox 360 or the Wii. Here being Roderich's annoyingly old-fashioned and disgustingly posh house, studying biology. If he had to listen to another minute of Roderich droning on about proteins and shit like that (which Gilbert couldn't give less of a fuck about), he was going to stab himself in the eye with his biro.

He was sure Erzsébet was behind this. She was always behind it. Always, no exception. And Feliks was usually in on it too. He would take great pleasure in breaking into her house and destroying her entire collection of Naruto doujinshi. By burning them, with kerosene. His inner spiel was interrupted by Roderich's voice.

"Huh?" he asked. Roderich rolled his eyes.

"I asked whether you would you like to take a break," he asked. Gilbert blinked in shock.

"You take breaks?" he asked, perturbed.

"Did you think I was some sort of odd robot?" Roderich demanded scathingly. Gilbert's expression was answer enough, and Roderich rolled his eyes again, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Come on, we can have something to drink," he said, standing up.

The kitchen was as posh as the rest of the house, and it irked Gilbert to no end. Ok, the Beilschmidts had always been rich, but they had never flaunted it like the Edelsteins or, indeed, the Vargases had. It smelt of over-compensation.

"Don't steal anything," Roderich ordered, catching where Gilbert's gaze was (which was to say everywhere). Gilbert scowled and huffed.

"I'm not some sort of kleptomaniac, y'know," he muttered bitterly. Roderich smirked.

"I was joking," he replied. Gilbert blinked in confusion, before raising his arm to punch Roderich in the shoulder. The other boy was rooting in the cupboard, and he thought better of it. It was a friendly gesture, one he'd done countless times with Antonio and Francis and even with Arthur (back when he would still hang out with them, before he and Francis… no, that was _not_ worth remembering), but Roderich would undoubtedly misunderstand it. And he might break his arm, or something, given how goddamn delicate Roderich apparently was.

"So, um…" Gilbert began, realising the silence had become sort of heavy. Roderich reappeared from the cupboard with what seemed like two packets of very expensive crisps and handed one to Gilbert before heading to the fridge and opening it.

"You don't have to strive to make conversation, Gilbert," he said, his voice a little muffled by the inside of the fridge. He pulled out two cans of Dr Pepper and placed them on the work surface, before pulling out the remaining half of what was a delicious-looking gateau and placing that next to the cans of drink. Gilbert was already stuffing his face with the crisps.

"Well, I hate silence," he muttered.

"Don't speak with your mouth full," Roderich admonished, hopping up on to the work surface rather elegantly. Gilbert tore his eyes away from the inexplicably interesting sight that were Roderich's crossed legs and stared, one eyebrow raised.

"You're sitting on the counter," he remarked. Roderich opened his own packet and snorted.

"So I am, Master of the Obvious," he said sarcastically. Gilbert snorted in turn and leaned against the pine table opposite, stuffing another handful of crisps into his mouth.

"I just didn't expect you to do something so damn… immature," he admitted, using on of his grandfather's favourite words when describing _Onkel_ Romulus. Roderich chuckled.

"Really? Well, goes to show you don't really know me at all."

Gilbert snorted. "If you could be a little looser at school, maybe I would have wanted to."

He reached for a can of drink; he blinked when his hand didn't meet cold aluminium, but soft, warm skin. He turned and flushed slightly, the pink tinge at odds with his pale complexion, and whipped his hand away quickly. Roderich seemed to have exactly the same reaction and snatched his hand away as well, looking away.

Gilbert opened his mouth to say something, trying to not think about how delicate Roderich's hand was, and his eyes fell on the gateau.

"W-who made that? Your mum?" Oh no, he did _not_ just stammer. He did _not_… Ok, he did. Even more embarrassing. Roderich turned back and shrugged.

"I did," he said matter-of-factly. Gilbert blinked.

"You?"

"Yes," Roderich replied. "My mother couldn't bake even if her life depended on it. She's… an accountant." He said that as if he was a little embarrassed by it.

"Huh?"

"Yes, well, she's a Zwingli, you know, the Swiss banking family. The Edelsteins are bakers. With a few musicians."

"Oh, if you can't get 'em by the throat you're gonna get them by the ear?" Gilbert teased. Roderich made a dignified noise of disdain.

"So you're related to the gun fetishist and Lili?" Gilbert went on.

"Second cousins," Roderich said, nodding. Gilbert whistled.

"Guess you learn something new everyday…"

He hadn't expected studying with Roderich to be so… homely, so normal and, he was loath to admit it, nice. He had expected the Austrian to be some sort of automaton, who wouldn't stop for a break unless they had finished – and even then only maybe.

Instead, he found himself having something that might have seemed like a conversation over calorie-laden food and drink. It was strangely pleasant, and Gilbert caught himself vaguely wondering what it would be like if they went out on a date. A _real_ date, maybe candlelit, with nice music, and eventual moving to the sofa to kiss…

The thought horrified him once he realised what he was fantasising about. For fuck's sake, what was _wrong_ with him? He didn't _like_ Roderich! He _hated_ him! The only reason he wasn't sneering at and insulting him was because he was a guest and guests didn't do that…

_Ah,_ said a little voice that he never listened to or seemed to hear, that sounded suspiciously like Erzsébet, _but you know that's not true. You've never hated him, have you?_

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Gilbert stared at the other boy, eyes wide and absolutely terrified. He didn't like Roderich. He _couldn't_ like Roderich. He shook his head and backed away, leaving Roderich puzzled.

"Gilbert, what on Earth…?"

"I have to go!" Gilbert said vaguely, striding towards the door and grabbing his jacket. Roderich hopped neatly down from the work surface and followed him, arms folded.

"You can't just leave halfway through our study session! That's not how this works! Gilbert – "

He reached for the sleeve of the other's hooded sweatshirt, and Gilbert whirled around, throwing him off.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled. Roderich backed away, shocked and hurt. Gilbert, for all of one agonising moment, just wanted to say sorry. He looked into Roderich's eyes and God he just wanted to apologise for the first time in his life. But his pride… His pride was too strong.

He wrenched the door open and stormed out, tugging his jacket on furiously. It wasn't his fault. It was entirely Roderich and… His eyes narrowed as he left through the side gate and headed to the bus stop. _And Erzsébet's_.

Inside, Roderich shut the door with a soft click, pressing his head against the heavy wood. No, those couldn't be tears. And certainly, those were not his shoulders shaking with noiseless sobs. And Gilbert could never hurt him, because he didn't care about him at all. He wasn't sliding down the door to tuck his knees to his chest and cry into his arms, his glasses discarded on the floor next to him. He was made of sterner stuff than that. He wasn't some weak little lovelorn schoolgirl.

He could lie to himself better than this.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lovino had been huddled under his covers for most of the day before once he'd returned from school, so he didn't see how today would be much different. His pillow was damp and salty from all the tears he'd cried into it, as much as he hated to admit it, unmanly and shameful as it was. His sobs were frequently interspersed with violent swearing against Antonio, even though he really meant none of it. He hadn't realised before now how much Antonio's presence allowed him to actually be noticed. It was a depressing thought, that only the Spaniard stopped him from being a wallflower.

He was musing upon whether to delete the photos of him and Antonio from his phone (feeling in a particularly sour mood right then) when the doorbell rang. Lovino scowled bitterly and rolled over. He was not going to open the door. His grandfather had gone out, and, as far as Lovino was concerned, no one was in.

However, it appeared the person at the door was either stupid or stubborn. Probably a mixture of both. Then his phone began playing _Le_ _Mille Bolle Blu_.

He grabbed it, growling in annoyance, and glared at the caller ID. Antonio, naturally. He blinked, frowning, as the doorbell began ringing again, and this time the visitor refused to lift his finger from it. Lovino answered his phone, barely daring to breathe, and heard Antonio's voice.

"Lovi? _Amor_, open the door! We need to talk!"

Lovino hung up and pulled the quilt over his head, his suspicions confirmed. He was _not_ opening the door, he was _not_ seeing Antonio and he was _not_ talking to him. Never mind the guilt that was chewing as his stomach. Never mind the overwhelming need to be held in Antonio's lean, strong arms, to be surrounded by the scent of spice and tomato leaves and Antonio.

_Cazzo_.

.

Antonio finally gave up ringing the bell when the Vargas' neighbour poked her head out of the window and glared at him. With a sigh, he slid down the front door and huddled on the doorstep, his schoolbag tucked against his side. It was getting gradually chillier, and he tugged his jacket closer around him.

It started to rain. He sneezed and rubbed at his frozen nose, the tips of his trainers getting wet from the drips that fell from the roof of the tiny porch.

But he refused to go anywhere. He wasn't going to until Lovino agreed to hear him out and accept his apology. He understood where he'd been wrong, he even understood why Lovino's reaction had been so disproportionate. He knew Lovino's abandonment issues. He'd thought they'd gotten over them together, but obviously they hadn't.

He pulled out his phone, flicking through the photos he had of Lovino on there. Most of them were of the Italian boy asleep: on a book, on a bench, tucked up in bed. Lovino was so cute with his habit of sleeping everywhere and anywhere so easily, just like a cat (or the narcoleptic Greek, Herakles). He smiled when he got to his favourite, which was also his wallpaper: Francis had taken it when they'd been on a long bus ride back from the beach together last summer. Lovino, tired out, had simply fallen asleep on his shoulder, and Antonio hadn't been able to resist simply closing his eyes and resting his head of Lovino's. They'd smelt of sand, salt water and happy exhaustion, and Francis had described them as adorable. He'd sent the photo to Antonio the next time they'd seen each other. The Spaniard had even printed it out and framed it, hanging it on the wall. He loved to simply gaze at it, remembering how much fun they had had. The ice cream, the swimming, Gilbert being buried in the sand…

He sniffled, rubbing at his nose again, and not because of a sneeze this time. He hated Lovi not talking to him. He hated not being with him. Lovi was his everything. He'd vowed to himself they would stay together forever, because he couldn't conceive anyone taking Lovino's place in his heart. He wasn't going to give up without a fight.

He looked up at a sudden, sunny bout of singing coming from down the road. He recognised the deep, perfect tenor of Headmaster Vargas.

"_When the moon hits your eye_

_Like a big pizza pie_

_That's amore!_

_When the world seems to shine_

_Like you've had too much wine_

_That's amore!_"

Antonio gave a watery chuckle and got to his feet, feeling damp and groggy, but a little cheered by Headmaster Vargas's merry singing. There was only one person the man could be singing about, someone who he'd probably dropped off at the Beilschmidt residence. It didn't come as a surprise when Feliciano's voice joined in.

They both stopped when they saw Antonio at the door, and Headmaster Vargas sighed.

"_Hola_," Antonio mumbled, offering a small, reluctant wave. Feliciano waved back, and they all huddled under the porch as Headmaster Vargas opened the door. Feliciano rushed in, complaining about his wet shoes, and left Antonio under the porch with his grandfather.

"You want to see Lovi, of course, hm?" said the old man with a ghost of a smile. Antonio nodded mutely.

"I thought so. You can stay for dinner, too. And you need to get changed. I'm sure some of Ludwig's clothes will fit."

Antonio thanked him with a wide grateful smile. Headmaster Vargas sighed.

"Don't try that with me, _figliolo_," he said wearily. "I can see through it a mile off. He's in his room."

Antonio's face fell from the smile he couldn't hold, and he nodded. Heading up the stairs and down the dim corridor to Lovino's room. He knocked gently, licking his lips, and listened.

"_Vaffanculo, Nonno! E se sei Feliciano, vaffanculo doppiamente!_"

Antonio's eyes closed in pain. He could hear the quiver in Lovino's voice, how full of unhappiness it was.

"You should go in."

Antonio turned a little, enough to see Feliciano standing there, holding a pair of wet trousers. The youngest Vargas nodded encouragingly with a slight smile, before heading to his own room. Antonio turned back to door, staring at it as if it held so many answers, before reaching for the doorknob and turning it.

Lovino was in bed, face down. All that could be seen was his brown hair, sticking out from the covers that he'd cocooned himself in. Antonio sighed and crossed the few steps to the bed, sitting on the edge.

"_Feli, ti ho detto di –_ "

Lovino stopped dead mid-sentence, staring at the Spaniard on his bed as if he had two heads. Antonio tried to offer him a smile, but he couldn't manage it.

"_Ciao_, Lovi," he said.

Lovino's face went from shock to fury in record time.

"What the fuck do you want? Get the fuck away from me!"

He shoved at Antonio, who fell to the floor without much fight. That shocked Lovino for a moment, but he soon regained his anger.

"Come to gloat about you and that bitch, huh?" he snarled. Antonio shook his head.

"I came to say sorry," Antonio mumbled. Lovino snorted derisively, now sitting up and glaring down at the other boy.

"Sorry for what? Preferring her over me? Well, it's only natural. No one wants me. Not _Nonno_, not my parents. I was stupid to expect you'd be different."

Antonio looked up at Lovino, horrified. He saw the tears in the other boy's eyes and he scrambled up to the bed.

"No, Lovi, no! It's not like that!"

He tried to put his arms around him, but Lovino fought him off, sobbing openly now.

"I hate that I'm only worth something when you're there! I hate that and I hate you!"

Antonio flinched, pulling his arms away. It was quiet except for Lovino's broken sobs.

"Lovino, it took me forever to get you to trust me," he murmured eventually. "It took me forever to get you to open up and really believe in me and what I feel for you."

He reached up a tentative hand to cup Lovino's cheek.

"It took me forever to see that smile of yours. You think I would throw all that away for _her_? I only want you, Lovino. Only you, no one else. And I love you so much, I love you for you. I love all your swearing and your fire. And I always will. I would never stop loving you, not for anything in the world."

Lovino glanced up, a split second, enough to allow Antonio to see how badly Lovino needed to believe him. This time, when he went to wrap his arms around the other boy, Lovino didn't resist.

"It's not you that's only worth something with me," Antonio muttered. "It's me that's only worth something with you."

"D-don't be an idiot," Lovino said, his voice muffled, sniffing and wiping his face on Antonio's shoulder. "I never try to show you how much you mean to me, do I?"

Antonio kissed the side of his head, holding him as close as possible.

"Shhh, I don't need reassuring."

Lovino struggled away, glaring. The fire was damp, but it seemed to be flaring up again.

"Shut up, idiot! You mean so much it hurts!"

He reached up and pulled the Spanish boy down for a sloppy, wet and painfully sincere kiss.

"_Ti amo_," Lovino mumbled when he pulled back, sniffing. Antonio chuckled.

"_Yo tambien_," he replied, pulling Lovino back against him.

"Dinner's ready!" Feliciano called through the door in a sing-song voice, skipping back down the hallway and stairs to the kitchen, where Romulus was setting the table.

"Are they back together again?" he asked. Feliciano nodded happily.

"Antonio was so sweet! He was all, 'I love you, Lovi, mi amor!' and Lovi was all 'shut up, Antonio, you're an idiot, because I love you too!' and then they smooched!" He aided his retelling with different voices for his brother and Antonio and kissing sound effects.

"I didn't say that, you moron!" Lovino snapped, sitting at the table and glowering at his younger brother. Feliciano giggled.

"It was something like that!" he said airily, making Romulus laugh heartily as he served the pasta.

.

He hadn't slept well again. He kept bumping into people and mumbling apologies left, right and centre. It was downright frightening to Francis.

"What's wrong?" Francis demanded before class started, leaning on Raymond's empty desk, but Gilbert shook his head.

"Nothin'."

Francis snorted. "If it was nothing, you would not be like this, fool! Now spit it out!"

As if an answer, a textbook and notebook were dumped in front of Gilbert, slapping the desk harshly.

"You forgot them," said Roderich, his voice like ice. Gilbert didn't even look up. In fact, he seemed to try to make himself smaller, and first for the German. Francis stared from one to the other, jaw hanging open. The Austrian turned and went back to his own desk, sitting down neatly and getting the books needed for biology out of his bag.

"What happened?" Francis asked. Erzsébet actually turned around to listen.

"Nothing, I told you," Gilbert muttered, tugging his paraphernalia towards him.

"Gilbert – "

"For fuck's sake, drop it!" Gilbert snapped, giving his friend and a furious glare. Francis winced.

"Fine…" he mumbled, sounding offended, and headed over to his own desk.

Erzsébet pressed her hand to her mouth in worry, tearing her eyes from Francis and looking at Roderich instead. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. What the hell could have happened?

.

"Roddy?"

Roderich looked up, giving Erzsébet an empty look. Break had just started, and everyone else was outside looking for their friends.

"Yes?"

She began fiddling with a lock of hair nervously, chewing her lip. "Did you and Gilbert… f-fight?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," said the Austrian stiffly, putting his books back in his bag with jerky motions.

"O-ok… If you need any help – "

"Erzsébet, my dear, your 'help' only ever seems to make things worse," Roderich said coldly. Erzsébet flinched and nodded.

"Um, I'll just go. I'm sorry."

She didn't see Roderich bury his face in his arms as she left.

Feliks was hovering outside, looking worried.

"Girl, I just, like, saw Gilbert… He was totally depressed!"

Erzsébet shook her head, sniffling. "Why do I only ever seem to make things worse, Feliks?" she asked sadly. Feliks hugged her, patting her on the back.

"Don't worry, things will turn out alright," he said. Thing was, even he himself wasn't so convinced of this.

.

Translations:

Le Mille Bolle Blu is a song sung by Mina, an Italian singer. It's pretty cute.

Cazzo: fuck.

Figliolo: son.

Vaffanculo, Nonno! E se sei Feliciano, vaffanculo doppiamente: Fuck off, Granddad! And if that's you, Feliciano, double fuck off!

Feli, ti ho detto di: Feli, I told you to

Ti amo: I love you.

Yo tambien: me too.


End file.
